


Perish, Speculation and Subsequent Fidelity

by Tragedi_origami



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Gen, morty is stir crazy, sad grandkids, summer is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tragedi_origami/pseuds/Tragedi_origami
Summary: It irritates me that you only care for yourself, Rick. Fuck you, Rick.In which Morty's thoughts become audible and palpable.





	Perish, Speculation and Subsequent Fidelity

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the series, so this is just a venting piece after what Justin put me through. Might do a continuation if ya guys like it:)

“T-There’s no way this shit is happening.”

Usual day at the Smith’s Residence—in which Rick curses upon his minor mistakes and Morty fucking everything up. No, actually Rick’s the one ruining everything. Still, Morty sticks around even though his whole—Smith—family disapprove of his unhealthy attachment towards his grandfather. 

Morty sometimes thinks it’s unhealthy too, and sometimes broods over the fact that he isn’t going to be free from ‘adventures’ that may kill them. He’s broken from his thoughts at Rick’s stuttering call of his name and a following order.

“M-Morty, g-get the plus screwdriver for me.”

Is the invention that important that he can’t take his eyes off of it for a damn second? He’s okay for Rick to _ask_ him, but he’s fed up for Rick to order him around. Not even a single _please_? Screw you, Rick.

He really wants to say that, alas he keeps his mouth shut and eyebrows taut. Morty rolls his eyes in annoyance, bringing the requested screwdriver over to his grandpa. Morty stops at his side to look whatever stuff he’s working on—he stands there unspeaking, and it piques Rick’s curiosity.

“What’s going o-on? Have you s-suddenly gone m-mute?” Rick asked, tilting an eyebrow. Morty shrugged, no verbal answer to Rick’s rhetorical question.

_Not even a thanks, either._

Pausing, Rick leaves his eyes from the thing he’s working on. That bastard, he can do it after all.

“Something the matter?” Rick asks. Oh yeah, everything, Rick. You put me through this distress with your apathetic and cynic persona. It irritates me that you pay small amount of attention to your daughter—much less me. It irritates me that you only care for yourself, Rick. _Fuck you, Rick._

“Nah, all good. Nothing to worry about.” Morty replies nonchalantly. He disposes his train of bad thoughts about his grandpa and decides to go with the flow instead. Still, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that no matter what he had, has, and will go through, he’s not going to avoid the inevitable.

_Being more like Rick._

_-_

He’s not mute. He remembers vividly he spoke directly to his family not too long ago. A brief conversation, but there were laughter, sarcasm, and even suspicion. His grandfather will always sit on the chair beside him, with an empty plate in front of him. It’s normal, yet his grandfather keeps asking what’s wrong with him. He throws away the worry laced in Rick’s questions and glances, and chose to believe they were made to check if he’s even alive after so much dangerous adventures.

He’s just finished eating his dinner, sitting in his bed doing nothing. He feels empty; as if something’s been taken away from him permanently. He’s not brooding, he’s _thinking_. Thinking of something off-putting him. But he can still recognize sounds in his earshot—the opening of his unlocked door. _Uninvited visitor_.

“H-hey Morty, could you d-do me a favor? I-I-I’ve got an appointment w-with the council of Ricks in the Citadel. C-come with me?” he asks, drunkenly. Morty slowly turns his head up towards the suspect of the sound, looking hollowly through Rick’s drunk eyes.

“W-what is it now, Rick? You know I’m not dealing with them anymore. I’m going to sleep.” Morty replies, pulling up his blanket to envelope himself in it even though he’s not that sleepy yet. He expects a hand to grab his leg and pull him out of bed, so he waits for a couple of second and looks up to Rick, which isn’t on the doorstep anymore.

He looks at the agape door, unfazed. He smiles ironically and put both of his palms onto his face, tears betraying to fall down his eyes. For a while, he fights the urge to cry and tries to get into a comfortable position to sleep the pain away—at least for now.

_He feels bad._

-

Beth hasn’t noticed. Neither do Jerry nor Summer.

But of course, one particular person keeps appearing in both convenient and inconvenient times, spluttering out things, gagging with a tasteful of random, weird catchphrases.

“And waaaay, we go!” Rick happily sits on the passenger’s seat, watching as his flying car being driven by his grandson. Morty sighs and starts the engine, forgetting how to drive the car properly. He braces for heart-wrenching comments, but that’s exactly what he needs.

“C’mon, buddy, s-stop pouting a-already! We’re gonna meet BP, dawg!”

_What the fuck are you so excited about?_ “O-okay, Rick, I’m still having di-difficulties flying this thing.” _When will you understand?_

When will you understand that your body is buried within thirty yards of our home, and you replacing his existence? It’s nowhere near normal and you act like nothing has happened. You ditched all your family and chose the easy way. _You’re selfish, Rick_.

Following the thought, a question strikes through Morty’s consciousness. His heart beats faster, he feels his stomach turns and his palms sweating around the steer. He releases one hand and put it on his mouth in attempt to ease the uneasy feeling around his guts.

_Am I not_ your _Morty too?_

Rick doesn’t sense it, however. He’s too drunk to _care_.

“It’s a reeeeunion, kid! We’re not gonna miss this one! You gonna have fun there, I-I promise.” Rick points his finger towards Morty with half-lidded eyes. His breath reeks of alcohol, but that’s okay with him. Morty grips the poorly made handle tightly in his hands, hoping to steady both the car and his tearducts.

_Rick hasn’t noticed, either._

_-_

“Spit it out, kid.” one of the council member barks at him. “It’s you or your dear sister.”

He thinks for a moment. Not as fast as Rick, but he uses his brain a lot more now. Not nearly as _genius_ as his mother, but he uses his chance wisely when he sees one. This is not Roy 2, Summer’s life is at stake and there’s no guarantee that he’ll be coming out from the citadel alive. “I have infinite sister,” he pauses to look at the councils’ faces, “But I won’t make the same mistake again.” Morty put the stolen portal gun down and his arms up. “Let her return to C-137 in exchange.” 

His face shows no regret. No interest, if any. Grandpa Rick won’t come to save them now, but he should be able to after learning from the master. Morty closed all ears to Summer’s shriek of horror as Quantum Rick shoots a portal and shoves her into it, slightly hoping it isn’t a blender dimension. The portal shuts itself with no trace of blood, which makes Morty sure that _these_ councils play by the rules even though a Morty has taken the place as the president.

Or are they?

_Oh, who cares_.

He feels his hands harshly put down and a guard attaches something cold—a metal—to restrain them from unnecessary movement. He feels his back pressed with a barrel, threatening him to move forward. He looks at the people who looks a lot like Rick longingly—minus their absurd hair and different accents. 

_His heart aches._

__-

_It’s cloudy. Not in a bad way, though it’s very windy above since the clouds move fast one after another, covering the sun. It’s a nice combination of warmth and coldness._

_But before they can absorb water, Summer opens the sliding door slowly and walks toward Morty, who apparently is sitting in front of his and two more graves. He remains unmoving with his head down even after Summer’s audible footsteps on the grass, so she makes a stop behind him._

_Summer doesn’t need to be reminded, but an addition of visible grave makes her mouth turn upside down. Sure, he wasn’t the best guy in the whole universe, but can’t he, for once, get treated properly? He’d been through shit enough._

_Summer rubs her left arm with her right hand, trying to comfort herself_. Grandpa Rick isn’t coming back, is he?

_“It h-hurts, isn’t it?” Morty speaks up._

_“Yea, what doesn’t? Everything’s painful in this world,” Summer replies back. Morty lets out a chuckle as a response. “I’m just hoping that our gramps’ safely moved to another dimension. It’s nice to hope once in a while, right? After all, anything is possible.”_

_Morty looks up at his sister and makes eye contact. His eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall down. “Wish, Summer. Wish,”_

_“You have no proof that he’s your original Rick, Morty,” she gazes the dirt Morty is crying to. “You might as well a free Morty he traded with a voucher.”_

_Morty freezes in disbelief._

“You know, have you ever thought that grandpa Rick wasn’t our—your—real grandpa?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcomed<3


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